


Interlude 2 - Autumn in New York

by shibarifan01



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Crack, Dinner, M/M, New York City, Pre-Slash, Switzerland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shibarifan01/pseuds/shibarifan01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Harold have dinner. Switzerland is mentioned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude 2 - Autumn in New York

**Author's Note:**

  * For [April_Valentine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/April_Valentine/gifts), [Blue Finch](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Blue+Finch), [because they were very helpful the other night in the Rinch room](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=because+they+were+very+helpful+the+other+night+in+the+Rinch+room).



> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHD3zmtHsKA
> 
> Another short piece, very light, pre-relationship, using Autumn in New York, the great great song by the magnificent Sarah Vaughan – give it a listen, it will put you in the mood (link is above). That’s the epitome of New York for me. 
> 
> Oh, and a small wink and a nudge to “Ready! OK”.
> 
> Not even the slightest bit of smut, for a change, maybe a kiss if they behave! Crack in parts. Pre-relationship, so: tentative, hopeful and gentle. Just wanted to change my mindset after writing another 5000 words on Against My Better Judgment and delving into the damaged psyche of our friend John in that arc, which is very different from this stand-alone little snippet, and much darker. It will be up as soon as it’s betaed.

 

 

John is uncharacteristically chipper tonight. Even the windy, rainy weather on this autumn night in New York does not dampen his spirit.  Looking into the box of CDs he’s picked up at the library, he finds a reissue of an old Sarah Vaughan album and puts it on. The round sounds of the violins invade the loft and if he were inclined that way, he’d even do a few dance steps but he catches himself in time… as cute as he is, there IS such a thing as too much cuteness.

After a long day running after a very recalcitrant number, he made his way to the library and found Finch there, looking bored out of his mind since there was nothing much for him to do. John had everything under control and there was nothing to research, or hack, or read. It had been a long day.  Bear looked as bored as his master, resting his chin on his tennis ball and sighing mournfully.

“Finch, what do you say you and Bear come to my place for dinner? It would make a change of scenery and I’ll pick up lasagna at the Italian place near the loft, you know, the one you like so much? A few good bottles of wine, I’ll make a salad and I’ll even spring for garlic bread and canolis. It might give us a chance to go over those backup cases you said we needed to double-check, and to do so in a more pleasant environment.”  John stops, out of breath. That’s probably the longest sentence he’s ever run from end to end. A normally taciturn man, he feels he’s babbling and that it is probably hampering his street cred, he thinks woefully.

But to his amazement, Finch acquiesces. In fact, he is so surprised that he remains speechless and Finch has to bring him back to the present. “Mr. Reese, I hope you haven’t changed your mind. You looked quite lost there for a moment.”

“I’m good Finch, I was just thinking of my game plan.”

“Your game plan, Mr. Reese? Please, are we going into battle? Do tell me so I’ll dress accordingly,” he adds, slightly smirking.

“You never know, Finch, I might have a hidden agenda,” replies John, and just as quickly, he’s making his way out of the library and toward the caterer, the wine shop and the Italian bakery. Walking back an hour later, he realizes he only has about ninety minutes before Finch arrives. Quick shower, well-worn jeans, new blue soft chambray shirt to set off his eyes, a pass of his fingers through his hair to leave in a charming disarray and barefoot (he’s been told he has sexy feet), John is ready. He sets the table, tosses the salad, opens the wine, fills Bear’s water bowl and sets aside the porter steak he’ll be feeding him tonight. He smiles ruefully at the thought of eating lasagna with Finch while Bear dines on steak, but that lasagna is Finch’s favourite. It has those miniature meatballs and an arabiata sauce that can bring a grown man to tears.  The scrumptious canolis he’s picked up at Mama’s Italian bakery have been set on a glass serving plate with a dusting of powdered sugar, as Mama suggested. Just crisp enough, filled with candied fruit, mascarpone and ricotta with a hint of vanilla, the ends dipped in dark chocolate, they’ll form a big part of tonight’s arsenal to seduce Finch. And since he’s heard him sigh in absolute delight at eating them, he hopes the battle is already half-won.

Just then, the doorbell rings and John finds a very wet Finch at the door, Bear’s leash in one hand, the remnants of an umbrella in the other.  “I’m thinking of building an ark, Mr. Reese, if this weather does not let up!” His glasses are wet, his hair is wet, and his overcoat is drenched. But he still manages to look elegant despite his predicament. He lets go of Bear, who runs to the kitchen and shakes himself vigorously sending droplets of water everywhere. Harold sighs and looks at John who finally wakes up.

He turns toward the bathroom and comes back with a big white towel which he quickly hands to Harold. “Here, that should help.”

“Thank you Mr. Reese, here I was thinking that my annoyance at the weather would wick the water out of me but I am probably not incensed enough just yet. Thank you for putting me out of my predicament,” he says, gingerly patting his hair dry and wiping his face. He squints at John while cleaning his glasses and then hands him his overcoat. John is happy to see that Harold has changed into more casual clothes. He looks very relaxed in a pair of black corduroy slacks, a grey and white argyle cashmere sweater and an open-necked crisp white shirt.

He’s freshly shaved but he appears to have forgotten one small smudge of shaving cream near his ear. This is extremely distracting to Reese who wants nothing more than to lick at it.

“Anything wrong, Mr. Reese?” asks Harold, his hand hovering at his neck from where John’s eyes are not moving.  Quickly, and before he can think about it, John uses the towel and dabs at Finch’s neck, bringing a fierce blush to his boss’s cheeks. Flustered, Harold picks up the towel from John’s hands and his voice is clipped when he says, “Here, Mr. Reese, let me do it!” A half-hearted battle for the towel ensues with John wanting to hold on to it, and but then relinquishing it, and Harold wanting to grab it too, and then letting it go. It falls to the floor between them and as both of them bend down at the same time to pick it up, they bang heads. Wincing, Harold catches his breath with an "Owww!", John is immediately mortified, afraid to have hurt his employer’s neck in the process. They finally sort it all out as John moves nearer to Harold to make sure he is fine.

By then John is so close to him that Harold has to move backwards so they don’t bump chests. “Have you no concept of personal space Mr. Reese?” asks Harold.  See, this, here (and Harold makes a small gesture around himself with both hands, which encompasses the area where John is standing) is Switzerland – impregnable, inviolable and unassailable,” he adds with a smile, opening his eyes wide to help pass the message across, to which Reese, imperturbable, adds “So you’re a small mountainous country filled with money, cows and chocolate, Finch? Let me get my gear so I can start climbing – I hear the view is incredible and the chocolate is rich, sweet and delicious!” he adds, lifting his eyebrows. “Watch those eyebrows Mr. Reese, I’m afraid they might just about fly off your head!”

By then, they’ve both walked to the dining room. The atmosphere is relaxed and both men are thoroughly enjoying each other’s company. Harold appreciates those rare evenings with John, even though he does not let on, preferring to keep him guessing. As for John, he is always happy to try to mentally trip Finch and fluster him.

John serves the wine, a fine Amarone he knows Harold is partial to, and while he goes to check on the lasagna, Finch starts rummaging through the box of CDs. “Did you find anything interesting in there Mr. Reese, apart from that lovely Sarah Vaughan album you currently have on. I have to say that this is my favourite song of hers. I so love her,” he says.

John’s head appears in the door, a large kitchen knife in his left hand, with which he gestures to the other box. “It’s good, but look into that other box, there’s a Jo Stafford one who is much better to my way of thinking,” he adds. “Oh, honey, are you sure?” says Finch, softly, and then immediately puts both hands over his mouth. John’s head reappears again around the door: “Whaaaa…?” he says. 

Finch looks at him like a deer caught in headlights, and John, leaving the lasagna on the counter, slowly walks over to Finch, eyes smouldering, head tilted to the side, a knowing smile appearing on his lips. “Harold,” he says, “is there anything I should know? Do you call me honey when you talk to me in your mind?” Harold can’t move, he just looks up at John’s face, and when the taller man is close enough to touch, he puts both hands on his chest, “Mpphhhh” is all that comes out of his mouth as John bends down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. He closes his eyes, afraid that if the thrill this brings to him becomes too visible it will give him away. He wraps his arms around John’s waist and opens his lips, lost in the sensation of John’s own lips on his, his tongue tracing Harolds’ mouth and his hands cradling both his head and his waist.  For once Harold lets go and rather than think, he just feels. He is fairly breathless when the kiss ends, a bit sad to let those lovely lips go, but just then, John adds “Don’t worry, Harold, there’s a lot more where this came from. But first, let’s eat and we’ll see where we can take this thing afterwards. “Well, John,” says Harold, I did not know I was such an open book!”

“Didn’t you know, Harold? I'm about to invade Switzerland! It's a very mysterious country,” says John, “but I am a seasoned traveler and there is nothing I love more than embarking on new discoveries.”

 


End file.
